


Rotting

by Nicxan



Category: Netherworld Haunted House
Genre: Body Horror
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-03
Updated: 2019-11-03
Packaged: 2021-01-21 01:41:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21291539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nicxan/pseuds/Nicxan
Summary: [Based on year 2019, Night of the Gorgon.]Eliza knew it was unwise to gloat about the situation. She just didn't know how unwise it was.





	Rotting

**Author's Note:**

> Hi guess who loves her haunt's lore enough to write a fanfiction for it
> 
> It's me

The horrendous sight of Euryale in the mirror had stopped frightening Eliza a long time ago. In fact, she found it as ordinary as anything could ever be. Even when her spirit guide stared at her with an unspeakable malice in her eyes, even when her tentacled hair twisted in hate, Eliza only smiled as she put the drape back over the enchanted mirror.  
  
She knew the Gorgon was unbelievably powerful; why unleash that power when it was so useful contained like this? Why bring about a second reckoning of the town of Whyshburg? Euyale was powerless in this situation. Euryale could be as angry as she wanted to be, but it made no difference in the end.  
  
“Someone else is going to be here soon. Best be ready.” Perhaps it was unwise to provoke Euryale further, but what harm could it do? She had the mask. She was fully protected from her guide’s powers. There was nothing she could do, and they both knew that. The enraged hiss that she heard in her mind only made Eliza chuckle.  
  
The traveler Ezra had found today was just like the rest of them in the years past. They all blurred together - they were all going to be turned to stone anyway. All they were good for was Ezra brought them in; while they chatted, Eliza donned the mask.  
  
“Thank you so much for your help,” Ezra said cheerfully while picking out the clothes. “It’s hard to find a good model nowadays.”  
  
“It’s my pleasure.” Dressing them was no easy feat - the rags had to fit just right, drape over their shoulders and onto the floor in a way that flattered the figure. It would be a look they’d be immortalized in, and they couldn’t cut corners. The traveler glanced at them both throughout the process, but moved as directed and followed every little instruction the couple gave them.  
  
Eliza fixed the hood, then took a step back to look them over. She nodded in satisfaction. “There. I think that’s perfect. What about you, Ezra?”  
  
“Looks great.”  
  
“All right, dear. Stay just like that for me, would you?” Eliza turned and began to walk towards the mirror.  
  
“Of course, but ... where’s the artist?” the traveler asked. Eliza knew that twinge of nervousness when she heard it - that moment when these models started to regret their choice to ‘help’. When they started to ask themselves if they should turn and run, or if they had made a mistake. The faint smirk on Ezra’s face told her that he had heard it too. “Will they be here soon?”  
  
“They will be. Just stay still.” Eliza smiled up at the man underneath her mask, then grabbed the drape to pull it off of the mirror. She glanced behind her, just to make sure Ezra wasn’t looking -- and he wasn’t. She peeled off the drape.  
  
The Gorgon was there, as she expected, but something made Eliza pause even as she heard the traveler scream. She hadn't seen this expression on Euryale’s face before, and something about it chilled her to the bone and made her tremble.  
  
Euryale was _ smiling_. Eliza could see all the sickeningly sharp teeth now, and how the grin was just a bit too wide for a vaguely humanoid face. Her eyes glinted with delight, and then her visage faded from the mirror.  
  
“Euryale?” Eliza asked. Her voice shook.  
  
Euryale didn’t answer. Instead, something else appeared in the mirror. Something Eliza had never seen before -- something she couldn’t even begin to describe in the terror that had stricken her so suddenly.  
  
She screamed, even as she felt her muscles rotting. She screamed, even as her vision had left her and her eyes had fallen out. She could still see that thing in her mind’s eye, and it only made her freeze in fear all over again. Eliza thought she heard herself cry for Ezra, but she couldn’t remember through everything else. His own cries of agony could barely be heard over her own. Had he even heard her shout for help?  
  
Had he seen what she had seen?  
  
Her muscles shriveled; the sudden weakness made her collapse. Eliza tried to crawl to get away, but found that she couldn’t even move. She couldn’t even scream anymore. What was left of her body just didn’t allow for it. Her clothes draped loosely over her rotting husk of a corpse. She felt and heard everything still.  
  
Shouldn’t she be dead by now? How was she still conscious? How could she hear Euryale’s cold laughter ring throughout the room before it faded?  
  
‘_Help,_’ she tried to whisper. ‘_Help me._’  
  
The visage of that thing she had seen was the only thing she could see now. Its visage had seared itself into her mind, leaving her unable to do anything but scream internally. No one could hear her. No one could come to her aid - not now. It was far, far too late for that. She was trapped in a rotting body.  
  
She was nothing Eliza Whyshman could do now.  
  
Both her and Euryale knew that.


End file.
